March 12 , 2006
Dear Reader:
Spring is in the air, and it's arrived just when we in the northern climes were once more losing hope that the crush of Winter would ever let up. The high crack and crunch of crystal snow under heavy boots looks to be slipping safely into its deep freeze for another year.
And of course, having just said that, we'll be in for another murdering blanket of heavy, clinging, wet snow a day before April can peek its tiny head out from under the mud.
But, at least with the promise of fair weather comes, too, the promise of renewed life and energy and the casting off of Winter's accumulated layers. And beneath those layers will always be found a surprise or two for those of us who can see beyond the obscure and recognize a hibernating notion, a dormant plot line, a well turned phrase just aching to become the first paragraph in a new story, the hook of a great poem. After a long Winter of fighting to stay warm and fed and occupied and healthy, the release of the first true warmth of a new season is exhilarating and most sincerely welcome.
And so Writer's Cramp explodes into its seventh warming Spring with a series of tributes to our own favorites. Writers all and poets first but writers all, they have graced our pages from the beginning and their talents are impressive and their insights are keen and their presence, like the Spring, is forever welcome and always anticipated.
We begin this tribute with Jan Oscar Hansen. Enjoy.
Hats In The Wind
by
RG Liberty
The seemingly endless, frigid,
dark, dreary, depressing and
dull, days of Winter
Disappear
In the first, bright, breezy, balmy breath of
Spring.
In the cosied up, settled down,
snuggled tight, ear crashing,
First thrilling thunder storm,
Of the Season
The blue veined bastard is banished,
Melting,
timidly away.
Scents of fresh life waft everywhere on the air
As Winter creeps, pouting,
into the night
Promising cold vengeance
Next year.
Wagging a crooked, icy finger
As he shifts into
Legend
And,
Fades
Into memory.
And the wind tickles my back
with warm hands
As it pushes
me
toward
new promise,
ruffling my hair,
stealing my hat,laughing lightly into the day.
Robert Liberty,
Publishing Editor
